


Beautiful, Dirty, Rich

by KrisStylinson



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Louis, Fake Marriage, M/M, Rich Zayn, Riding, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 10:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11378568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisStylinson/pseuds/KrisStylinson
Summary: Louis shrugs, then as if it’s the simplest answer in the world, mumbles, “You said you were bored.”Zayn’s heart melts. He’s got the sweetest boy in the world, hands down. He’s so thankful. “And they just let you in for that?”This time, Louis grimaces while his head floats back and forth questionably. “They let me in because I’m Zayn Malik’s husband who had to come a little late due to work issues, which I’m terribly sorry for.”Zayn can’t help but give that a laugh with a fond shake of his head. “You’re such a fuck.”(based onthis post)





	Beautiful, Dirty, Rich

**Author's Note:**

> back at it with another zouis fic because i love my babies
> 
> title from [beautiful, dirty, rich](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Nr33m1zXVE) by lady gaga

Having money is never something Zayn feels one can complain about, but dealing with a family who’s accustomed to the rich lifestyle? Another ballpark.

 

He loves each and every member of his family, he really and truly does, but he absolutely _hates_ his obligations as a Malik to go to fancy events with uppity old people and snobs who think their money actually makes them a better person. Sometimes Zayn wants to strip them of their gold card for a week and see how much of a personality they’re left with. His guess is none.

 

That’s probably part of the reason he denied any and all set-ups and blind dates from his family with pretty rich people. He would much rather spend his time with someone actually tolerable, even if their bank account didn’t have as many zeroes as his. He doesn’t get how that’s supposed to hinder him from dating someone to _begin_ with.

 

He was lucky to find Louis.

 

Louis is—well, Louis is kind of everything.

 

He’s smart and funny and kind and gentle and fucking _gorgeous_. He’s got soft spots to match Zayn’s rough ones, makes up for Zayn’s lack of sociability with an abundance of people skills, warms up a room with his smile when Zayn worries he’s dulling the ambiance. All in a compact body that has lovely curves in the places where Zayn’s remained slender since puberty. A perfect fit, he thinks.

 

They had met a short three months ago that somehow felt like an eternity, when Zayn was strolling through the park while he waited on his sister’s music lessons to end. Louis narrowly missed hitting him on his skateboard but that didn’t save Zayn from stumbling. In proper Louis fashion, he stopped as soon as he could and rushed back to make sure he didn’t do any damage. By the end of it, they had each other’s numbers saved. Zayn’s sure if he hadn’t been obligated to pick up Safaa, he would’ve gone home with him that second.

 

It had been mostly casual since then. Going out, talking for a few hours, rushing back to either’s place for amazing sex, a good morning text the next day, repeat. Maybe they had spent the night with each other a few times, spooned until the sunshine woke them up, and maybe sometimes that bled into an entire day together.

 

They hadn’t discussed a label. Zayn’s content with whatever so long as he gets to keep Louis.

 

He had planned on seeing the newest Marvel movie with Louis tonight, but his mother called him earlier to say that his dad requested his presence at a dinner party. Zayn knew that there was no use in putting up a fight over it because he had long since learned that his dad wasn’t one to be questioned, so he stubbornly put on some of his fancier clothes and called Louis to give him the news.

 

“Well, fuck,” Louis mumbled into the receiver as soon as Zayn gave him the explanation. “That just sucks, doesn’t it?”

 

Zayn sighed. “I wish I was spending the night with you, Lou.”

 

Which was how he found himself currently sitting at the head of the table with his family and very few people he recognized, but the rest were strangers. His sisters seemed more comfortable than him, and his parents were laughing like they were enjoying themselves. Clearly they belong here and he… doesn’t. He doesn’t understand how he continues to get roped into these things even after he’s moved out of the house, and yet.

 

To his left, Waliyha gives him an elbow to the side. When Zayn turns toward her to ask her what the fuck that was for, she mutters, “Stop looking so dreadful.”

 

Zayn pointedly looks around the table, where everyone’s attention is focused on some elderly man’s tales of the stock market and smarter trading systems. “Sorry if I’m finding it hard to look like I’m enjoying myself.”

 

Waliyha rolls her eyes. “You look more uninterested than usual, and that’s _bad_.”

 

“I’m sure,” he responds, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips at the thought. “What’s this dinner even for?”

 

“A possible investment partner,” she answers easily. “Apparently the head of that company Dad’s been trying to win over is a big family man who loves making friends.”

 

Zayn does another once over of the room. “I think he’s got more than enough.”

 

Waliyha huffs, but an almost fond look overtakes her features. “Just put on a bit of a smile, yeah? Promise it won’t hurt.”

 

Zayn gives her an exaggerated grin in response. She hums appreciatively before turning her attention back to the people around her. Without her focus on him, he sneaks his phone out underneath the table and opens his conversation with Louis.

 

_i’m bored :/_

He looks up before anyone can catch him and give him a lecture on table manners. He listens to more stories about how rich people get richer and even throws in a few affirming words every now and again. It results in a happy nod from his dad and a smile from his mother, so he figures he’s in the clear.

 

After ten minutes have passed, he chances another glance at his phone to find his message unanswered. Frowning, he gives all of his attention back to the table.

 

He barely stands another five minutes before checking his phone again. Still no reply. Sighing, he opens up their conversation once again to see a mocking _Read_ mark at the bottom of the screen, timestamped a few minutes after Zayn originally sent the text.

 

Fine. It’s fine. Louis is probably just busy. Not too busy to read the text, but too busy to respond. Which is fine.

 

Zayn bites his lip. It’s _fine._

 

He gives up on trying to be a social butterfly once everyone gets up from the table and makes their way around the room. Instead, he turns all of his attention to his phone where he can wallow. He opens his camera roll and scrolls through countless pictures of he and Louis together, then quite a few of just Louis himself. Each one reminds him of how pretty and sweet and charming his boy is, how happy he makes him, and _why won’t he just answer the stupid text?_

The elbow comes to his right side this time. It’s Doniya, who’s gesturing toward the door with a shake of her head. “That’s _your_ problem.”

 

His problem. He hasn’t even _done_ anything.

 

Still, he looks toward the door on reflex and he’s more than he happy he did—making a beeline for his seat is _Louis_.

 

He’s sure he’s grinning like a loon. He doesn’t care.

 

He gets up and takes the few more steps necessary to reach the boy then immediately kisses the matching smile Louis is sporting. “Oh my God, _Louis_.”

 

“ _Zayn_ ,” Louis mimics, gripping Zayn’s face between his hands. “You look handsome.”

 

“You’re _here_ ,” Zayn says. “Why? _How_?”

 

Louis shrugs, then as if it’s the simplest answer in the world, mumbles, “You said you were bored.”

 

Zayn’s heart melts. He’s got the sweetest boy in the world, hands down. He’s so thankful. “And they just let you in for that?”

 

This time, Louis grimaces while his head floats back and forth questionably. “They let me in because I’m Zayn Malik’s husband who had to come a little late due to work issues, which I’m terribly sorry for.”

 

Zayn can’t help but give that a laugh with a fond shake of his head. “You’re such a _fuck_.”

 

Louis hums. “It was nice getting a pat down, though.”

 

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder that Zayn doesn’t recognize. When he looks up, he’s met with a pair of warm eyes and a gentle smile that contrast greatly to the firm hold on him. “Yaser never mentioned his son having a boyfriend.”

 

It takes a second for it to click in Zayn’s head that this must be the man his dad is working to impress, judging by the way Yaser is lingering at his side with a nervous smile in Zayn’s direction. Zayn looks between the two of them, and then back at Louis, who’s gesturing for him to respond. Christ.

 

“Well, that could be because we’re married. We’re a pretty private couple actually,” he clarifies, hoping that it’s enough of an explanation that no further questions are asked.

 

Yaser makes a confused face before he sighs and plasters on a grateful smile. “Zayn, why don’t you introduce Mr. Malone to your husband?”

 

Mr. Malone. Thank fuck someone told him this guy’s name. “Of course. Mr. Malone, this is my Louis.”

 

As if this is a normal situation for him, Louis offers the man a poised hand and a bright smile. “Nice to meet you, Sir. Apologies for my late arrival. Work is hectic this time of year, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

 

Zayn rolls his eyes at the fat lie. Mr. Malone, however, completely falls for every syllable and happily shakes Louis’ hand with a joyful look. “You made it here in the end, and that’s what matters.”

 

Zayn throws an arm around Louis’ waist to put the cherry on top, squeezes him once on the hip  just to really sell the picture of a happy married couple.

 

The man seems to take the bait. “I suppose we’ll leave you to it, then. It was lovely to meet you, Louis.”

 

“Same to you, Mr. Malone.”

 

With that, the man is turning on his heel to find a new group of people to converse with. He waits on his dad to join him, but instead Yaser steps closer to the two of them.

 

“I don’t know what you two are up to this time, and I’m not even going to ask,” he whispers, “Just _please_ don’t attract any negative attention.”

 

“I’ll keep your son under control, no problem,” Louis answers before Zayn can open his mouth. Zayn simply nods his head at the words and smiles.

 

Yaser gives them both one last stern look, muttering some form of thanks under his breath as he stalks off to talk more business with whoever is willing to listen.

 

Once he’s gone, Zayn pulls Louis into his side and turns so they’re face to face. “You’ve crashed a very important dinner party to pollute the place with your lies.”

 

“Now, don’t say that. Makes it sound bad.” He begins stroking Zayn’s biceps with gentle touches. “I just did what I had to to cure your boredom.”

 

Zayn scoffs. “Mhmm.” He kisses Louis swiftly on the cheek. “Any more details I should know about our wedding, Mr. Malik?”

 

“First off, you should know I hyphenated,” Louis quips, “so that’s Tomlinson-Malik to you. And the wedding was on a private beach off the coast of Cali, very private yet elegant, just like you.”

 

“Hmm.” Zayn mulls over the thought, lips tucked up into a permanent smile, it seems. “Who proposed?”

 

Louis pauses. “You, after I told you in detail how much I liked being wooed. You went the whole nine yards, I believe.”

 

“And you fell for every bit of it,” Zayn finishes his thought. Louis gives him an affirming grin, mumbling, “How couldn’t I when I had Prince Charming at my feet begging for my eternal love and all that?”

 

Zayn wrinkles his nose. “I think we established that I’m Aladdin.”

 

“Of course, how could I forget.” Louis squeezes Zayn’s cheek once, laughs when Zayn’s tongue darts out to lick his thumb. “I had the notorious thief Aladdin at my feet begging to _steal_ my eternal love.”

 

“Shut up.” To show just how much he doesn’t mean the words in a harsh way, he kisses Louis once, twice on the lips. “Let’s go lie to more rich people about our fairy tale marriage before you bust me out of here.”

 

Louis hums. “You’ve read my mind, Zayn Malik.”

 

~~~

 

“Did I mention you look amazing in that shirt?”

 

Zayn leans back in the car they’re currently being driven to his home in so Louis can get himself more comfortable on his lap. The partition had been rolled up nearly the second they got into the vehicle, only down long enough for Louis to tell the driver, “Not to be rude, but we’re gonna need the privacy.”

 

Louis’ cock is digging into Zayn’s stomach, making it all too easy to tell just how hard his boy is. “It may have come up a few times.”

 

Louis makes quick work of undoing the first three buttons on his shirt and spreading the fabric as far as it’ll allow. “Looks even better now.”

 

Zayn grins. “Me or the shirt?”

 

Louis kisses him in lieu of a verbal answer, arching his back enough that their fronts get pressed close together. Zayn moans once Louis’ lips move to his jaw, biting him in one of his more sensitive spots, right underneath his ear.

 

They can’t fuck right now. They _won’t_ fuck right now. Zayn’s brain gets that, but the rest of his body can’t seem to catch up.

 

Suddenly, Louis starts grinding down onto him in earnest, giving Zayn’s cock all the attention it had been yearning for. He lets out an embarrassing grunt and grips onto Louis’ hips hard enough to bruise.

 

Louis moans unabashedly and directs his attention to Zayn’s chest tattoo, planting his lips right on the fake ones between the set of wings on his skin. Zayn hits his head on the seat when he tosses it back, groaning in pain at the tiny sting that easily turns into a groan of pleasure when Louis sucks a hickey into his tattoo.

 

Once Louis pulls back to examine his work, he smiles at the purple tint he’s given Zayn’s skin. Zayn waits for him to do something, _anything_ , to continue what he’s started, but his hands simply reach into his back pocket for… his phone?

 

“Louis,” Zayn pants. “Phone sex isn’t going to work right now.”

 

“Shh. Sit back,” Louis demands, pushing Zayn’s body flat against the seat with a hand on his chest. “I want a picture.”

 

Zayn huffs. “You can do that _later_.”

 

Louis is leaned as far back as his body will allow, but he doesn’t allow that to stop him from grinding determinedly into Zayn’s crotch, _fuck_. “I’ll do it now.”

 

Sighing, Zayn puts his hands behind his head as Louis instructs while the flash of his camera goes off. “You’re gonna owe me so many blow jobs if you want me to get over this.”

 

Louis breathes a laugh. “I’ll make up for it as many times as you want.”

 

Louis gets one more shot with his arms down, then one closer up on the spot he left on Zayn’s chest, before he finally pockets his phone. Zayn lets out a groan of relief, but of course the car comes to a stop at that exact moment and one look out the window tells him they’re home. Louis climbs off of his lap with a half-apologetic smile and throws the door open before Zayn even has a chance to fix himself.

 

Being a member of a multi-million dollar family often left paps at his doorstep, even if they were just getting a picture of him doing something as mundane as getting into his car. Thankfully, there are no cameras on the premises today, lest they grab a photo of him with his shirt opened and a few blossoming hickeys painting the exposed skin. Louis already has his photos of that, and that’s all Zayn wants to allow.

 

Louis navigates through his place with ease, goes through the door to Zayn’s bedroom where he shamelessly still hasn’t made his bed. Louis doesn’t bat an eye, simply goes through the motions of stripping off his own clothes and tossing them to the floor. Zayn mimics him, although with less finesse, and the amount of buttons still done up on his shirt means he doesn’t get done nearly as fast. Louis notices and his hands bat Zayn’s away as he finishes up the task himself.

 

“Never gonna be anything hotter than watching you undress me,” Zayn whispers once Louis pushes his shirt from his shoulders. It makes Louis grin up at him with a sultry look.

 

“Get on the bed and I’ll show you hot,” he says, then with a smoother tone, “Mr. Malik.”

 

Zayn half obeys, grabbing Louis by the hips and pushing him onto the bed then climbing on top. They start kissing then, hungrier, more lustful than before. Zayn’s hands try to touch every inch of Louis’ perfect body at once, despite it being an impossible task.

 

In a moment of weakness, Louis gets enough strength to flip them over so Zayn is on his back with Louis straddling his waist. “I’m riding you. That can be your wedding present to me.”

 

Zayn groans. “Then what’s my present?”

 

Louis hums, grabbing the lube from Zayn’s nightstand and slicking two fingers up. “Being ridden.”

 

Zayn can’t argue with that. Especially not when it gifts him with the sight of Louis plunging two fingers into himself from the start, not wasting a second with going slow. He’s only able to watch from the tiny triangle of space between Louis’ thighs, but he’ll be damned if he isn’t watching like a hawk.

 

There’s a moment where Louis reaches toward the nightstand again that has Zayn thinking he’s grabbing a condom—they had stopped using them religiously a month ago after discovering they were both clean, and then they only became a necessity when they didn’t want a mess—but instead Louis just grabs more lube and drizzles it onto Zayn’s cock.

 

It’s cold, and he winces, but Louis clearly isn’t in the mood for waiting so Zayn doesn’t say a word. It doesn’t much matter anymore once Louis has a hand wrapped around him to spread it around, the substance heating up in seconds from the friction. Zayn bucks up into his hand.

 

Louis smirks at that. “Restless fucker,” he chides blithely, and it’s a testament to how badly Zayn wants to get on with it that he doesn’t point out his hypocrisy.

 

He closes his eyes to take a calming breath once he catches sight of Louis positioning himself over Zayn’s cock. They only open when he can feel himself sliding into Louis, would never willingly miss the sight of Louis adjusting to his cock, as conceited as it sounds. He’ll gladly accept being conceited if it means he never has to give this up.

 

“God,” Louis mumbles, voice high and breathy. He bites his lip and lets out a groan. “I swear you get bigger every time.”

 

Zayn stares at the curve of his midsection, then the way his waist flares out into perfect hips—he suddenly wants to touch them, so he does. “You just get tighter.”

 

Louis moans. “ _Fuck_ , if you don’t shut up.”

 

Zayn moves—he delivers one small but hard thrust up into Louis, then lands a quick spank on his bum. “Thought you were riding me.”

 

There’s a breathy huff, and then he can feel Louis rise up. “I am, so don’t try to show me up.”

 

Zayn crosses his hands behind his head in a makeshift pillow before giving Louis a nod, as if to say, “Continue.” Louis rolls his eyes at the action, but he also starts moving.

 

Zayn’s had good sex. Tons of _great_ sex before Louis. Yet he can’t help but regress back to an over excited virgin every time he has him—he suddenly has to worry about coming too soon, even had to use his hand as a makeshift cock ring their first time and still finished embarrassingly fast. It hadn’t been a problem for anyone but him and his pride, considering Louis just chuckled and got him hard enough to go again.

 

He’s still not convinced Louis isn’t a sex demon. He is convinced that it wouldn’t make him want to leave him.

 

The bed is one of the things Zayn did splurge on when he bought his place, so it doesn’t make a sound even with Louis’ hurried movements. It makes it that much easier to distinguish Louis’ breathy moans, his high-pitched whines when he positions himself just right to hit his spot.

 

“Oh,” Louis mumbles. He bites his lip, shifting from side to side.

 

Zayn frowns. “Okay?”

 

 “Yeah. ‘S just,” he huffs, “very _full_.”

 

 _Oh_. God. “Yeah? Feel good?”

 

“Mmm.” He groans. “Just a lot. Might need you to take over.”

 

Zayn flips them over easily, Louis not putting up any semblance of a fight, and plants a kiss on Louis’ neck. “All you had to do was ask.”

 

The position makes it much easier for Zayn to pleasure Louis like he had been wanting to—he drives in and already hits his prostate dead on with the first thrust. He feels the heel of Louis foot dig into his hip and a set of fingernails grip onto the back of his neck. It stings, but nothing Zayn feels the need to complain about, not when he’s got better things to do.

 

He fucks him harder than he has in a while, an animalistic type of urge unveiling itself from the depths of Zayn’s brain. He suddenly wants Louis noisier, wants to fuck and fuck until he can’t help but moan. The thought pushes a grunt out of his own mouth that he barely stifles into Louis’ neck before hurriedly biting the skin.

 

A surprised, airy sound leaves Louis’ lips, his panting becoming even heavier. Encouraged, Zayn nips him again. This time, Louis full-body _shivers_.

 

“Zayn,” he mumbles. “Zayn, I’m so—”

 

His sentence chokes off into a moan that strokes Zayn’s ego more than anything. He’s obviously getting to that lovely point of overwhelmed that Zayn always feels accomplished for delivering him to.

 

He switches his mouth to the other side of Louis’ neck and starts sucking a bruise while he pounds into him—it’s not ideal, but it works well enough in getting Louis loud and whimpery and pleasantly debauched.

 

“Gonna,” Louis says, the sentence coming out slow and unfinished, and Zayn knows what’s coming before he feels Louis’ hole clenching up around him as his orgasm washes over him.

 

Suddenly the room is full of the most beautiful moans Zayn’s ever heard; he manages to fuck into Louis a few more times before his own orgasm takes hold. He keeps himself buried as deep inside as their bodies will allow as he comes, a loud groan emitting from his mouth that he doesn’t intend to let out.

 

Once he regains his bearings, he’s met with the sight of a naked, fucked out Louis with his hair feathering against expensive pillows and half-closed eyes. It’s kind of perfect and beautiful and definitely something Zayn wants to have visual proof for the rest of his life.

 

He gets an unhappy groan from Louis when he pulls out of him, but he shrugs it off and searches for his discarded pants to grab his phone out of the pocket. He holds it up with what he hopes to be a charming smile and mutters, “My turn for pictures.”

 

Louis grunts. “Just get my good side.”

 

He laughs at the notion that either of Louis’ sides isn’t as good as the other and goes to unlock the screen—there, he discovers an array of texts from Waliyha. Frowning, he opens them up.

 

_dad is looking for u! says very happy news and he wants to thank u. bring louis._

Zayn rolls his eyes. As if he wouldn’t drag Louis along anyway.

 

_ur gone. fine. he wants u both at dinner tomorrow to thank u_

_turns out Malone has a gay son and seeing u out and proud with your husband (???) was just the push to get him to partner w dad._

He smiles and responds with a short, _we’ll be there_ , before plopping back onto the bed.

 

Louis huffs. “I’m waiting for my glamour shots.”

 

Grinning, Zayn opens up the camera and positions himself for a perfect angle as he snaps a photo. “Dad wants us at dinner tomorrow.”

 

Louis smiles. “I’ll check my schedule.”

 

He gets a closeup of the purpling hickey he left on Louis’ neck before being swatted at. “Apparently the guy whose ass he was kissing tonight was very pleased about seeing me and my husband at his dinner tonight. Something about a gay son. He wants to thank us.”

 

“Wow.” Louis hums. “Maybe we should plan a wedding. Our marriage is already working out for everyone else, surely it will for us too.”

 

Zayn scoffs. “Go to sleep, you’re talking crazy.”

 

“Says the one who proposed to me at the top of the Eiffel tower, with a plane pulling a banner that read, _Louis Tomlinson, my one, my only, my everything, please do me the honor of taking my hand in marriage and keeping me from going crazy from being surrounded by all these stupidly rich snobs._ ”

 

A snort. “Stupidly long banner.”

 

He lets Louis situate himself against Zayn and pull the comforter around the two of them. “Then you go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you.”

 

Zayn sighs. “Go to _sleep_.”

 

This time, Louis doesn’t object.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading & i hope you liked it!
> 
> tumblr: [zourry](http://zourry.tumblr.com)


End file.
